


On a Pale Horse

by VeraBAdler



Series: April 2019 challenges [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort Food, Death Rides A Pale Horse, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 20:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Another unplanned sequel! This time, it's part 2 ofthis! Billie shows up for a visit, and no one we know dies, because screw you, prompt of the day!Prompt: Death





	On a Pale Horse

The brisk knock on the door was unexpected, because not a lot of surprise visitors show up at the Bunker. It wasn't particularly worrisome, though. Since they'd averted the final apocalypse and set up the global hunter network, potential threats were few and far between. Dean answered the door.

“Hey, it's me. Grab this, I've got more in the car.”

“Billie?”

“Obviously, Dean. Take it, it's heavy.”

Dean took the handle of the overstuffed canvas bag she was thrusting in his direction. She immediately turned away, grabbing another armful from the trunk of the white Mustang parked by the door.

“Since when do you lug around shopping bags? Or complain about how heavy something is? Or drive? Or stop by with–” He inhaled. “Holy crap, is there pulled pork in here?”

“Pulled pork, mac and cheese, stewed tomatoes, meatloaf, stuffed shells, cole slaw, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, cloverleaf rolls, apple pie, chocolate cake, and peach cobbler.” As she listed off the bounty she'd brought, they tromped down the stairs to the main level. “And to answer your other questions, I'm taking the evening off.”

“Shit, does that mean–”

She held up a graceful hand. “The people who need to die are still gonna die. I've got my best Reapers on it. But it's been a busy month for all of us, and even I can use a little downtime. So I brought dinner.”

Dean cleared off the map table and headed to the kitchen for plates and cutlery while Billie started laying out Tupperware containers. Once everything was ready, he sent a text to Sam: _Grub's on. Find Jack & Cas and come greet our guest._

~~~~~~~

It was late at night by the time they all rose again from the table, groggy and sated on good food and even better conversation. (Turns out a couple of lifelong hunters and a couple of eons-old beings have a pretty intense storehouse of anecdotes between them. Even Jack'd had a few good stories to tell.)

“I should be getting back soon,” Billie said with reluctance, then her demeanor shifted back to _all business_. “Cas, Dean? Help me pack up the leftovers?”

The look she gave was fraught with ineffable meaning, and Sam and Jack knew that was their cue to get scarce.

The three of them cleared the table and piled the containers in the fridge. Billie waved off their token protests – “Keep it. I won't eat it, and neither will the Reapers.” – leaving Dean ecstatic at her largesse.

When the kitchen was clean and Billie's canvas bags were stacked by the stairs, she turned to them. “Okay, before I go, I need to ask: Did something happen yesterday? Between the two of you? Something _big_?”

Surprisingly, Cas was the one to turn shy at her question. He blushed and stammered, while Dean took his hand and answered Billie plain.

“Yeah, we talked yesterday, got some stuff straight. Well, not _straight_ , but...”

Billie smirked. “Got it. Say no more. _Mazel tov_ , and all that.” She raised her hand, which was now holding a book that had not been there a moment before. “Glad to hear there's a good explanation for _this_.” She gave it to Cas, who looked at it with astonishment. “You can keep that, too. I've got dozens more just like it back home.” In a blink, she was gone, her canvas bags with her.

Dean turned to Cas, their hands still interlaced. 

“What did she give you?” he asked with some trepidation.

Cas showed him the cover: WINCHESTER, CASTIEL was emblazoned across the front in gold.

“Should we... Open it?” he murmured.

“I think she meant us to,” Dean replied.

Together, they turned to the last page. _April 17, 2067 - Dies peacefully, in the company of his husband._

**Author's Note:**

> Personal headcanon that I just made up for this piece: old Death liked junk food, new Death likes comfort food.
> 
> Rebloggable link for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/184502873431/april-28-death-verabadler-supernatural).


End file.
